


Fantasies Through The Four Seasons

by dragonofeternal, SetsuntaMew



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2020 US Presidential Election, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Fantasy Island Adult Bookstore, Four Seasons Total Landscaping, M/M, Sex Shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27566710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofeternal/pseuds/dragonofeternal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SetsuntaMew/pseuds/SetsuntaMew
Summary: "Dean.""Look, Cass, I told you already- I can't make them leave," he said, massaging his temples."They keep calling the store," he said. "Asking for Rudy Giuliani."Dean glanced out the window and saw the former New York City mayor standing near the podium, getting ready to address the gathering of tired looking reporters and protesters. "He's out here, they can see him!""Dean, they want to have sex with him," Cass explained flatly.In which Cass manages the Fantasy Island Adult Store, as well as his long held feelings for Dean Winchester.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 19
Kudos: 116





	Fantasies Through The Four Seasons

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure from SetsuntaMew: despite watching SPN for years, I never had the time to write anything when I was super into it. However...as someone who manages an adult store similar to Fantasy Island, complete with ~video viewing booths~ I feel like my entire career has been building to this exact moment. I have to share with the world what it's like to deal with people clambering to be inside the adult store at all hours, especially on the heels of something like this XD
> 
> So without further ado, the Supernatural fanfic that no one asked for from us, but absolutely needed to exist :D

It was a normal, moderately sunny, moderately warm Saturday morning in November. The weather was behaving as well as it could for the time of year, maybe just a bit warmer than usual, but nothing special. Nothing about the way the day dawned could have prepared Castiel for what would unfold. The street was empty - a normal experience for 8 am on the weekend - and he was more concerned with morning cleaning and setting up for what would probably be a moderately steady day. If anything, he worried it might be slow, with people trying to capture the last hints of warmth before winter’s icy grasp.

Little did he know, something was brewing just across the parking lot...

Dean Winchester knew the struggles of being a small business owner well, and one of the best pieces of advice he could give would be to never turn down business, even if it was outside of what you’d normally do. Rarely, if ever, would someone try to host a press conference in front of a landscaping company, but 2020 was already so damn weird, how could he say no? They could really use the boost in income.

Still, even he couldn’t predict just the levels of weirdness that would follow. At the time, he kinda thought it was a prank call - probably from someone who got tired of dealing with Cass’s stone cold resistance to fun - and insisted on a nonrefundable deposit, just to get **something** out of it. But when the news vehicles started pulling up, followed by crowds filling the street, he realized he was so, so wrong.

Well, shit. At least he was gonna get the rest of that rental fee. He stepped away from the window, intent on ignoring the mess unfurling outside, and sat at his desk. He had paperwork to deal with, damn it! He didn’t need to worry about the press conference.

Almost on cue, the phone started ringing. Praying to anything out there that it wasn’t someone from the press, or some sort of prank call, he answered it.

“Dean.”

The flat voice of the manager of Fantasy Island across the parking lot crackled through the line. Even without saying anything else, he could tell he was upset about something. Years of sharing a parking lot will do that. “Morning, Cass.”

“They are in my parking lot, Dean,” he said. “They are not customers.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, shrugging. “See, there’s gonna be a press conference in about an hour-”

“But they are taking up all the parking spots,” he continued. “I have told them to leave and they refuse to. You have to do something about this.”

“Look, I kinda thought it was a prank until they actually showed up,” he explained, getting nothing but annoyed static from Cass. “I can’t do anything about it now.”

Before Cass could complain anymore, Dean hung up. He felt for his fellow small business owner, but like he said, there wasn’t anything he could do. They’d both just have to hold tight and wait for it to blow over, and maybe get some free publicity out of it.

Sam stood in the doorway of his office, confusion cutting deep lines on his face. “Hey, Dean. Do you know why it’s so busy outside?”

“Yeah, there’s a press conference for the president happening later.”

Sam’s expression only grew more confused. “Why is it happening **here**?”

“I dunno, I thought it was a prank caller and agreed to it. Didn’t expect it to be real!” Dean explained. He should have brought more beer to work this morning; he tried not to make a habit of getting tipsy on the job, but he didn’ know how bad he was gonna need it. It should have been a quiet Saturday morning, but now all he could hear were the growing crowds of protestors, fans, and reporters setting up, and the closed windows were doing nothing to stop it. Sam shook his head and walked out, leaving Dean to try to ignore the noise in peace.

His phone rang again and he picked it up on impulse.

“Dean.”

“Look, Cass, I told you already- I can’t make them leave,” he said, massaging his temples.

“They keep calling the store,” he said. “Asking for Rudy Giuliani.”

Dean glanced out the window and saw the former New York City mayor standing near the podium, getting ready to address the gathering of tired looking reporters and protesters. “He’s out here, they can see him!”

“Dean, they want to have sex with him,” Cass explained flatly.

“Ew??” he exclaimed. “The man’s a thousand years old, and Borat just busted him for trying to have sex with a 15 year old on camera. People can’t be this stupid.”

“Some of them are prank calls. Some of them want “Republican Daddy Dick” and think they’ll find it inside,” Cass continued dryly. “Tell them to stop calling.”

“I can’t even begin to comment on everything wrong with that.”

“Then make them go away.”

“They paid a deposit in advance,” he tried. “I can’t afford to refund them now.”

Cass considered it before replying. “I understand. You are a man of honor, and I would not want you to go back on that.”

“....yeah, that’s it.”

“But they are still blocking traffic and keeping paying customers out of my store.”

“Got it, got it. Do you want me to send Sammy over?”

“Sam is not scheduled until this evening,” Cass said. “But perhaps he can help escort people in and out of the store. Thank you.”

There was a click as Castiel hung up, leaving Dean in relative quiet once again. The press conference sounded like it was in full force, or the crowds were yelling and laughing for the hell of it. Either way, it was gonna be Sammy’s problem soon.

“Sammy!” he called out. His brother returned, now just tired instead of confused. “You’re gonna have to help Cass, they’re giving him a hard time over there.”

“Oh, are they looking for Rudy Giuliani?” he asked.

Dean groaned. “Yeah, and a bunch of other weird perverted things! You know, more than usual. Different perverted things.”

“So he wants muscle?”

“Just go over there so he stops calling me,” he said. “I can’t make a bunch of Republicans go anywhere they don’t wanna.”

“Can anyone?”

“No- look, stop whining and take your homework with you, Cass won’t care,” Dean argued, sending his brother on his way.

Meanwhile, things were heating up at Fantasy Island. No one wanted to pay the $3 minimum charge to enter the video viewing booths because they “just wanted to see what they were,” despite the many signs explaining the policy. It cannot be that hard to understand, but the general public doesn’t know how to read on the best of days, and a day full of gawking tourists is worse than others.

Castiel stood guard in front of the counter, blocking the entrance to the booths, and watched people mill about the stop, giggling about the products. He had never had so many people ask for the largest dildo in the store, at least not in one day. Usually it would be spread out throughout the week. At this rate, he might actually end up selling out of the Dick Rambone instead of letting it gather dust waiting for an over-ambitious size queen to take it home.

Sam pushed his way in, shrugging off a pedestrian trying to sneak in with him. They are at max capacity and no one has been listening to that, either. “Dean said you were dealing with a rush over here.”

“The press conference is hindering my business,” he said simply.

“Great,” he said, glancing around. “I guess no one’s buying anything?”

“Not much.”

It ended up being a relatively short press conference, but it lead to hours of prank calls and wide-eyed browsers for Fantasy Island, well after the news crews had packed up and called it a day.

Once the crowds thinned somewhat, Dean wandered over to check in on Cass and Sam. Most of the loiterers from earlier had left, but the store was empty for a Saturday evening- regulars probably fearing being recognized if there WERE crowds left.

“Hey, Sammy, Cass,” he called with a wave. “Slowing down?”

There wasn’t even a speckle of mirth in Castiel’s eyes. “Your press conference ruined any business I might have gotten today.”

“Yeah, I’m seeing that,” he commented. “Sammy, go get a pizza for us- use the company card. It’s the least I can do after this mess.”

“It is the least you can do,” Cass repeated flatly. “You could apologize.”

Sam shot him a sympathetic look on his way out, escaping whatever anger has been brewing all day. Lucky bastard.

“I said I was sorry! And I promise not to schedule any political events again, no matter how much they’re willing to pay,” Dean told him, offering a hand.

Castiel eyed his hand, a single brow raised.

“Come on, shake on it. No hard feelings,” he pressed.

“Usually, I enjoy sharing a parking lot with your business. I understand that it has been a difficult year for both of us, but today was unpredictable-”

“Yeah, I get it, I know it’s not great-”

“-and could have been avoided with some honesty. If we are going to continue to be neighbors, we need to be more open,” he finished, ignoring Dean’s attempts to apologize his way out of it.

He still had his arm extended awkwardly, but at this point, he’s resolved to just leave it. “Okay, I’ll warn you if we plan anything like this again. We’re not gonna, but I’ll tell you.”

Cass nodded. “Thank you, Dean,” he said, finally taking his hand. There was a warmth in the touch, something that felt years in the making - something like 11 years of teasing and avoidance, if he was being honest - and he couldn’t say he had the words to describe it. 

“Uh. No problem,” he replied instead, stumbling over his words. Something still hung in the air. The store was empty, even the video booths, and all he could think about was Cass’s hand in his, still holding him tight.

“Then you should know that even when you frustrate me, I feel very strongly about you. Happiness is in just being,” he said.

Dean’s face scrunched up, trying to figure out where this was going. “What’re you talking about, man?”

“Knowing you has changed me, Dean,” Cass continued.

“Why does this feel like a goodbye?”

“It isn’t,” Cass said, his brows furrowing. “It’s a confession. Why would I say goodbye? I’m not going anywhere. I am trying to tell you how I feel.”

“Oh,” he said dumbly. “Uh. Thanks, I-”

“I know you don’t feel the same way-”

“Whoa, that’s not what I said. I just- Man, you gotta pick the weirdest time to tell me this.”

“Having to watch the world descend on our businesses as though the world itself was ending made me feel like I had to stop keeping it to myself, and put myself out there. Thank you, Dean.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Uh, you’re welcome? Look, I don’t have a flowery speech for you, or anything, but-” he cut himself off, looking around the shop just to remind himself that no, no one was there but the two of them. “Yeah. You’re the closest friend I have besides Sam, but I don’t really… know a lot about all this homo stuff, like I barely make time for relationships, let alone…” He laughed to cover the fact that he had no idea what to say, and when Cass didn’t laugh along he coughed awkwardly to end it. “Shit.” 

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean.” 

“Well, maybe I want to say something! I just… Dammit, Cass.” Dean stared at the wall of brightly colored dildos, each a testament to a world of weird he only thought about in the most joking, abstract of ways. Why the hell did they have to have this conversation here? Why now? Why Cass, who was weird but oddly engaging, who always had his back. When the zoning department came around and decided that all of Four Seasons’ heavy machinery was too noisy to be kept so close to a residential area, Cass was the one who stepped up and told them to shove it in the most polite way because of grandfathering in or some shit. Dean exhaled heavily and stopped looking at the dildos to look back at Cass. “I guess I like you too, more than just friends, even if I kinda wanna say ‘no homo’ after it.” 

“A no homo love confession.” 

“Yeah!”

“That sounds ridiculous, Dean.” 

“Yeah, well, sayin’ any kind of I love you when I’m gettin’ stared down by a bright pink one-eyed willy feels pretty ridiculous too!”

The two stood in silence for a long moment, until finally, Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward, fiercely embracing Cass. “I love you man. No homo. Just Dean.” 

Cass gave a dry little laugh, embracing him back. “I love you too, Dean.” 

Dean pulled away, smacking Cass on the shoulder and giving a little laugh to cover up his feeling that he’d just done something emotionally vulnerable. “So what, should we bone down while we wait for Sammy to get back with the pizza?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on man, you got those, what are they, nudie booths in the back?” he reminded him, gesturing to the entrance of the viewing booths. “I’m sure nobody would care!”

“Dean, I am not sleeping with you in a puddle of another man’s semen.”

His mouth dropped open, trying to formulate an answer, but Sam saved him from making a bigger fool of himself. “Sorry that took so long- everyone’s out celebrating,” Sam explained.

Dean jumped apart from Cass like he’d been shocked. Celebrating? For a second his brain forgot all about the presidential election and jumped straight to ‘celebrating him coming out of the closet and saying he was gonna bone down with Castiel.’ He gave a big laugh and smacked his brother on the back. “Heh, well, you know! No more cheeto-in-chief, that’s good right? For like. I dunno, the gays and the country and stuff.” 

Castiel pulled a key from beneath the counter. “I’ll lock up the store so that we can enjoy our pizza. I agree with Dean. There is a lot worth celebrating tonight.” And then he caught Dean’s eye, and gave him a wink. 

Sam looked between the two of them, one eyebrow raised. “Did I… miss something?” 

“Nothing to worry about, Sammy!” Dean laughed. “Nothing to worry about.” 

And really, what was there to worry about? Weird as he was, with Cass at his side, Dean knew whatever came next would be good.


End file.
